


023 - Shower Smut

by storiesaboutvan



Category: Catfish and the Bottlemen (Band)
Genre: F/M, Reader-Insert, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-10-12 13:21:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17468375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesaboutvan/pseuds/storiesaboutvan
Summary: A fic about: Being looked after while exhausted. Shower smut. And Van McCann.





	023 - Shower Smut

**Author's Note:**

> Does anyone know a cute way of describing finger banging? Because I don’t.

He always knew how to lift your spirits, whether you wanted them lifted or not. You had dressed for the work party, already exhausted from possibly the worst week in your professional life. To have to then go out and 'socialise' with everyone in your office seemed like some kind of ironic torture. You had a black cocktail dress on, your hair pinned up, and you had just strapped on the red pumps when Van walked into the house you had bought together the year before.

"Whaaaaaaaaat," he said in a high pitch tone. "Babe! You're killin' me."

You smiled and shook your head. He held a hand out and helped you stand. You were in the kitchen and he rearranged your bodies into a position ready for waltzing. Then, he started to pull you around the table in a dance that was probably meant to be the waltz, but certainly was not. You were amused but tired.

"Van!" you said slowly. He stopped and looked down at you. "I am so tired. Please give me a reason to not have to go to this stupid party,"

"Aw, love. I'm sorry. Isn't it super important though? Good for the career, innit?" he asked, pulling you into his arms and holding up your weight. You closed your eyes and felt like you could fall asleep right then and there. You made a sound that meant yes. "Y/N, come on, I'll drive you,"

"No, it's alright," you told him. You stood straight and put your bag over your shoulder.

"Nah, love, don't want you driving like this. I'll drop you, and just call me when you're done,"

"Van, you don't want to have to wait around all night to come and get me," you said while he was already on his way out of the room, twirling his keys on his index finger. Van was nothing if not persistent and stubborn. The conversation was over, and you were happy in the front seat of Van's car.

…

As expected, the party was boring and your feet hurt and you spent most of the time eating the canapes. After the first few people left, you took your opportunity and messaged Van. When he rolled up out front twenty minutes later and you tumbled into the front seat, it was the greatest moment of relief you'd ever experienced. You pulled your shoes off and curled your legs up on the seat with you. It was cold, and Van put his jacket from the back seat over you when he was stopped at a red light. As he did, you grabbed his hand and put it on your thigh. For the rest of the drive he rubbed your leg gently while you slept.

When the car engine's familiar rumble stopped, you woke up. Van was opening your door before you even moved. "Come on, arms up," he said gently, as he scooped you up and carried you inside. "Need you to unlock the door," and he jingled the keys so you knew where to reach for. It took you a moment in your sleepy haze, but you did it. He walked through the dark house and put you straight on the bed. He disappeared for a few minutes before returning with one of your makeup wipes. As he cleaned the foundation off your skin, you giggled. "Look, every time you sleep in it, you wake up complainin'," he explained. God, you loved him. He pulled your dress over your head awkwardly, eliciting more giggles, then helped you into an old tshirt. He pulled the blanket up over you and tucked you in. He kissed you on the forehead before disappearing again.

…

You woke up still feeling tired; it was hard to open your eyes. You turned around in bed to find Van wide awake. He was writing in one of the many journals he left scattered around the house. He closed the book and snuggled back under the covers with you.

"How ya feelin'?" he asked, thankfully whispering. He tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear and you nuzzled into his hand.

"Still tired,"

"Thought you might be. I think we should stay in bed," he suggested.

"All day,"

"All day. Maybe breakfast and shower first?" You shook your head no at that. It would involve getting out of bed. He smiled. "I'll cook and carry you around, don't worry." And with that, he tumbled out of bed and left the room. You went back to sleep.

Beeping. Very loud, high pitched, constant beeping. The smoke alarm. It woke you up and you laid there wondering if you should go and see if Van was alright. The sound stopped, then Van was in the doorway. "I'm sorry! It's okay. Everything's fine," he told you.

"What happened?"

"Nothing, it's fine. Breakfast is ready though," he said as he put his arms under you to carry you into the kitchen. As you entered the room you could see a tea towel in the sink drenched in water, one corner burnt off. He put you down on a chair and delivered tea and breakfast to you. As you ate you told him about the work party, and he listened intently. One of your favourite things about Van was how good at listening he was. His face would switch instantly from his animated smile to dead serious, and he'd turn his head to you and watch carefully. He'd nod as you spoke and always responded. He cared.

After breakfast you were carried to the bathroom and put in the shower. Van lifted the shirt over your head, and you stepped out of your underwear. Under the hot flow of the water, you wrapped your arms around his neck and leant into him. Your eyes were closed and you could feel yourself too relaxed to stand; sleepy again. "If you're gonna fall asleep, tell me first so I can catch you if you fall. I'm going to wash your hair now." And, he did. He was careful not to get soap near your face. As his fingers raked across your scalp goosebumps appeared over your skin and you felt your whole body perk up. He washed his own hair, then let you fall back onto him. He drew patterns across your back as you stood half awake-half asleep on him.

Out of nowhere, the feeling changed. The sleepiness wasn't going away, but you stopped feeling warm and comfy and calm. You felt hot and tingly and your knees were shaking. "Van," you whispered. He nodded, which you couldn't see but could feel. "Can you touch me?" you asked.

"I am?" he replied, confused. You waited for him to catch up. "Oh," he paused. "Yes! Yeah, mm-hmm."

He kept one arm looped around you for support. You were very likely to go down at any second. His other arm came to your front, and you felt his fingers on your hips. They teased lines down your side, across your thighs as far down as he could reach without moving, then he was well between your legs. First he rubbed gentle circles across your clit, and you let it good-hurt. Once you were shaking and your breathing was unsteady, he slipped his finger into you. The image of him twirling the keys on the same finger the night before flashed in your mind for a second. You smiled into his shoulder. He curled it upwards, knowing how to build you up. You started to kiss his neck, and leave soft bruises from bites when he touched somewhere right. A second finger slipped in and the pace sped up. It was good, and you could feel an orgasm but it was still very much in the distance. "Harder," you instructed between moans.

"You're gonna fall," he laughed out. You made a whiney sound. "Come here," he said, take his fingers out of you and moving his hands to spin you around and put you against the wall. He moved one of your hands to the shelf, so that you could hold on. You held the palm of your other hand against the wall, fingers splayed out. He stood pressed against you, one arm wrapped around your middle, the other reaching into you.

In this position he could move faster and harder without fear of you falling over and dying an embarrassing death. His fingers moved in time with your swaying hips, and his thumb gently touched your clit. "Okay, harder now," you said. You felt him smile into your neck and nod. He did what you said and it was exactly what you wanted. With his two fingers angled up and pushing hard into you, the orgasm was only a minute away. Your eyes were closed, but you imagined what it looked like, his hand so close to you, his mouth on your skin, him growing harder every second behind you. Then, it hit. Your feet curled, which meant you stood on your tippy toes. You grabbed his hand with your free one, and held it still while your body rode the wave for a few seconds more. Your head tipped backwards and you let all your weight fall on him, but he had you entirely. When you stopped making that sound he loved, and your feet were firmly on the ground, he gently worked his way out and spun you back around. He held your face in his hands and kissed you.

"Stay here for a minute. I'll just put clean sheets on the bed," he said to you.

"No, why? Stay," you mumbled out, still seeing stars.

"Because we're staying in bed all day, and you like being in clean sheets when you've just showered," he replied as he got out and pulled a towel around him. You leant against the wall and kept your eyes closed and waited for him to come and get you. When he did you couldn’t really tell if you fell asleep or not. He turned the shower off and put a towel around you, then with another dried your hair. It reminded you of when your mum used to wash your hair in the bath and towel it off dramatically. He carried you into the bedroom and sat you down. You let him dry off your body, then you rolled under the crisp white quilt and sheet. He smiled and followed you.

"All day," you whispered as he tangled his arms and legs between yours. He nodded and kissed your cheek.


End file.
